


The nearness of you

by Vracs



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: F/F, Misty is the gentlewoman we all deserve, Misty takes Cordelia for dinner and dancing in New Orleans, Smut, Valentine's Day, a WHOLE lot of fluff, foxxay - Freeform, smitten Cordelia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-27 14:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17768618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vracs/pseuds/Vracs
Summary: Misty and Cordelia spend Valentine's Day together - a little belated





	The nearness of you

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Norah Jones' 'The Nearness of You'

_It's not the pale moon that excites me_

_That thrills and delights me_

_Oh no, it's just the nearness of you_

 

Cordelia is an old romantic.

Tucked away just beneath her surface is a poet's soul and on Valentine's Day, Cordelia lets it shine brighter than the rest of her.

She used to celebrate it with Hank - the flowers, the champagne, the chocolates, the _cliché_ of it all - and feel girlish and giddy each time Hank showered her with affection, however brief. She'd put on dresses for him, let perfume and a crimson lip cling to her skin and greet him at the doorway after long trips, his stubbled smile crooked and hidden behind a bunch of roses just for her. Year after year, the same song would play out: sex, dinner, more sex, sleep, midnight sex, until Hank would collapse in an exhausted pile and Cordelia would study him, longingly, wondering how she could simultaneously have and _not_ have somebody, lying so close in her bed, sharing her air.

Cordelia shakes the memories like cobwebs and focuses in on the mirror at her vanity.

Today marks five years. _Five_ years since Misty and her first met; two since Cordelia first laid eyes on her; one since they made a home for themselves, in a quiet cul-de-sac downtown, a stone's throw away from the Academy but far enough detached to grant occasional peace and solitude in their chaotic lives. Cordelia feels the nostalgia stretch tendrils from the pit of her stomach and through her heart, its warmth reaching upwards with lazy fingers to cradle her softly around her chest. She can see it on her face - the wrinkles the years have brought, the way her eyes have grown soft with love, the upward tilt of her mouth. She wears happiness now, more blatant than the colourful prints of her blouses or the gleam of her jewellery.

She doesn't hear Misty step into their bedroom and move slowly up behind her until her warm cocoon is Misty's arms themselves, wrapping around her from behind.

"Hey, Valentine," Misty whispers into the shell of her ear, pecking the soft angle of her jaw.

Cordelia lights up with emotion. She swivells in her seat. She means to return the greeting but Misty's hair is toussled just the way Cordelia likes, falling over her shoulders in romantic waves, and her eyes are blue and shining with so much admiration, Cordelia can only sigh breathlessly and reach up to bring Misty's soft petal mouth to her own.

Misty hums, indulgent. She toys with the idea of nestling into Cordelia's waiting lap and smothering her with kisses, but the sensible part of her brain kicks in and she leans away instead, smoothing palms over Cordelia's slender shoulders.

"Not now, darlin'," she grins, a warning, because she has something planned, even though Cordelia briefly thinks about vetoing all of it cruelly in favour of spending the rest of the morning right here, sat at her vanity, letting Misty hover above her and do with her as she pleases.

The idea sends a spike of heat between her legs. Misty must see it in her eyes because she shakes her head, pulling her first to stand, and then across the bedroom towards the stairs lest she has another moment to linger.

Misty wears loose flannel pyjamas that Cordelia gifted her on their first night in the house and it fills Cordelia with warm pleasure. She'd been so used to seeing Misty sleep in skimpy slips, or _nothing at all_ , that despite the allure of Misty's pale, broad back in the morning light, Cordelia would often scramble to wrap her in layers of covers, and socks and slippers, because _what if she gets cold?_

She wipes sleep from her eyes and struggles to keep up with Misty's racing footsteps towards the kitchen, where a feast has been laid out, a red card on her empty plate and a single pink rose in her glass.

"When did you have time for all of this?"

"While you were snorin'."

"I _never_ -"

"I'm _kiddin'_ ," Misty flashes her a wry grin and earns herself a poke to the ribs. She ushers Cordelia to sit at the kitchen island, pulling her chair out for her and working quickly to bring the oatmeal off the stove, handing Cordelia cinnamon and berries and coconut shavings. "I thought 'bout makin' pancakes but - y'know -" she shrugs sheepishly.

Cordelia does know. The last time Misty attempted pancakes was for her birthday and she can still see the faint char marks above the kitchen sink. Besides, Cordelia had always fancied herself a healthy breakfast consumer and Misty had picked up on that early, persuading her to go downtown for waffles only on special occasions.

She watches Misty pour herself cereal and then unearth a fresh almond croissant from the paper bag, red-handed. Cordelia floods with affection. 

"I _knew_ it."

"I can't help it!" Misty's cheeks dimple as her smile widens and she rips a piece to pop into Cordelia's mouth. "Well - ain't you gon'a open it?"

Cordelia remembers the envelope before her and anxiously thumbs it apart, reaching in to pull out a card and two tickets nestled in its clutches.

_Cordelia,  
_

_My heart is forever yours. Be my Valentine._

_I love you always - Misty_

Her heart soars - in part because Misty got her a gift, _any_ gift, but mostly because Misty remembered when Cordelia had told her almost six months ago that she'd been dying to finally experience a quintessential local blues dive, whiskey stains and all, secretly hoping Misty would take her to dinner, and after enough cocktails, a dance.

She looks up gratefully at Misty and receives a wink.

"You like it?"

Cordelia leans over and lays a tender hand to Misty's cheek, sees her clouded blue eyes shine and kisses her ever so softly, in adoration and gratitude as her heart swells in her chest.

"I _love_ you."

Misty only beams back at her like an infatuated fool, eyes locked on her face as they make quick work of breakfast and tidying up. She's barely placed her bowl in the sink before Cordelia's tugging her back up to their bedroom, spinning her playfully in a half-dance and tickling just beneath her ribs until she's pinned gently against the bed post in an indulgent kiss. The warm touch of Misty's lips against Cordelia's own, the tuck of her bottom lip in Cordelia's mouth leaves her spun and dizzy, hips nudging against Misty's as heat spreads through her body.

She hums in content. Her arms link around Misty's neck and she feels the cool press of silver rings against her lower back. There is nothing she cherishes more than these private moments, the scent of Misty's morning skin, her hot breath, the thick texture of her tangled hair in Cordelia's palms. Cordelia runs her fingers through it and inhales deeply, greedily.

They break apart after long minutes and Misty pouts at her apologetically, sneaks a lingering kiss in consolation to the side of Cordelia's neck on her way to the closet.

When they finally leave the house, the humidity's already risen to greet them like a fog and Cordelia's thankful that she had half a mind to put her hair up in a braid. Misty's curls frizz in the high monsoon heat, like a lioness, and Cordelia marvells at her, lets her eyes follow down past Misty's exposed collarbones, her yellow cardigan and floral summer dress as it flickers in the breeze. She squeezes her hand a little tighter, overwhelmed with love.

Misty leads her to the city market as if she's done it hundreds of times before. She skips from street to street like an animated child, pointing out cafes to Cordelia, book shops she plans to take her to, parks Cordelia's been too busy with school work to make time for. Cordelia relishes in it all. The thought of exploring this city, _together_ , especially through Misty's eyes, makes everything pop with colour and sound and Cordelia would happily trade in all her responsibilities at the Academy, if only to have Misty be her personal tour guide for the day.

The mid-week mid-morning has left the streets wet and quiet, the air around them sticky as they weave past shops and restaurants, through puddles and under palm trees.

Misty sneaks into side-roads to steal clammy kisses that make her feel like a school girl each time Cordelia reciprocates. The secrecy of it makes her skin thrum with excitement even as Cordelia sometimes ducks away from prying New Orleans eyes that linger on them too long. But always with a smile, apologetic and full of promise, of _later - later I'm going to kiss the breath right_ _out of you_ and with a handful of wildflowers Cordelia buys her to remind her that she's not ashamed, not afraid, just fiercely protective of this love she doesn't want to share with anyone.

It's barely an hour before Misty's hungry, tugging Cordelia along the food stalls, hoping to entice her with the hot, tangy smells of jambalaya (too tomato-y), barbeque (too messy) and various assortments of dessert that Cordelia knows Misty's going to get her hands on one way or another.

Eventually they split a muffoletta and Cordelia watches Misty work her way around a ripe tomato afterwards, biting through it like an apple so juice drips down her chin and makes her eyes crinkle when Cordelia tries to wipe it away. Something in Cordelia stirs at the sight, the pure unabashed way Misty approaches food, and life, and their relationship - with sheer joy and enthusiasm. She hands her a napkin because she can't kiss her, so Misty kisses her with her eyes instead - a promise for later. Misty's finally sated after two beignets and a coffee on their way out the side door, and Cordelia caves in then, kisses the powdered sugar right off her face as the heavens open and rain casts down on them in heavy bullets.

They stand for a moment, propped against a back wall in a tight embrace. Misty doesn't hear anything but the thundering of the water and the sound of Cordelia's soft lips against her own; forgets the cold wind as Cordelia absorbs it with the warmth of her body. Cordelia waits for the soft cotton of Misty's dress to soak beneath her fingers, realises her own white blouse is turning see-through an instant before Misty's transmutated them back home, to the safety of their cosy bedroom as thunder shatters through the window, pleading to be let in.

The change of scenery leaves Cordelia dizzy with whiplash, even as Misty sprawls beneath her on the bed, laughing from the bottom of her chest as she looks up at her. Her alabaster skin is cool to touch and Cordelia works quickly to rid Misty of her dress, peeling it from her like a second skin to reveal constellations of goosebumps on her freckled chest, her taut stomach.

Misty guides her hands eagerly. She trembles into Cordelia's warm mouth, from cold and anticipation, relief washing over her when Cordelia lets her own blouse and bra fall to the floor and crawls into Misty's lap, tongue firm and insistent against her lips. Misty opens up for her, opens her arms to embrace her, feels their bodies vibrate against one another when Cordelia makes these soft, shivering sounds that Misty swallows up, pushing kisses into Cordelia's damp neck to thaw her.

"Shh," she soothes, sitting up to hug Cordelia in a lotus. She smoothes her hands over the notches of Cordelia's spine, smiling into the curve of a collar bone at the feel of Cordelia's pebbled nipples brushing against her own. She kisses Cordelia deeply, basking in the sensation of nails against her scalp and then over her shoulderblades.

Cordelia tilts into her to straddle her thighs and hover above her. Strands of hair fall out of her braid to frame her face.

Misty grins up at her longingly.

"C'mere darlin'," she grasps Cordelia's hips, giggling harder when Cordelia's cheeks burn, pupils blown wide to hide her brown irises. The sound warms Cordelia from the inside, makes her burn with desire as Misty kisses her jaw, wipes wet hair from her neck and licks the rain off her in long, lazy swipes. She grinds down gently. Misty doesn't tease her, not this time, only slips a hand under her skirt, fingertips tickling up her inner thigh. 

Cordelia feels her body go boneless with relief at the first touch of Misty's fingers between her legs, the cotton material of her underwear pushed to one side as Misty navigates through the wetness that greets her. The excited circles Misty paints against her makes Cordelia ache and she clenches her thighs tighter, clambering up to anchor herself against Misty's shoulders, chin resting on the crown of Misty's head.

Misty pecks the base of her throat, palm firm on her ass to guide her into slow, rocking motions. She soaks up Cordelia's pleasure, yearns to give her more the second she lays eyes on Cordelia's face, her parted mouth, brows pinched in concentration.

She fights everything within herself to pull away. The moment they sever, Cordelia's eyes flutter open, a soft gasp leaving her long enough for Misty to shift further up the bed, pulling Cordelia along with her.

"'s okay, I ain't done," she whispers, eyes sparkling with mischief as Cordelia struggles to keep up. It dawns on her then, when Misty looks up at her, head between her legs, hands on her hips stirring her downwards and Cordelia wishes more than anything that her skirt wasn't in the way so she could enjoy the full view. She bunches it up in her hands, folds it just above her navel so she can see Misty's face, her blue eyes crystal clear as she licks her lips hungrily. "I love you like this, Delia," Misty tells her, lifting her chin to press a soft kiss against Cordelia's pelvis, nose brushing and inhaling against the drenched material there.

Cordelia feels her knees buckle. She leans forwards, bucking her hips into Misty's eager mouth, urged by two firm hands on her ass. Misty tucks fingers into the waistband and nudges, smiling as they work together to get one of Cordelia's legs out of her underwear, freeing up more space for her to work. Her mouth waters at the sight of Cordelia, pink and flushed and glistening with want. She smells like rain and something sweet. Misty kisses her there. She laps quickly, the flat of her tongue steady against Cordelia's clit, eyes focussed on the body above her, the shadows that scatter between Cordelia's breasts, hair falling behind her shoulders, muscles tensing with each push of her hips. She sneaks a hand up to Cordelia's breast, cups and squeezes, delighted when Cordelia's own palm comes up to cover it, pressing it firmly against her. Misty wishes she could have her mouth on all her favourite places at once.

The thought makes her throb and she doubles her efforts. She loves to watch Cordelia in charge of her own orgasm. She sucks gently at the bud of Cordelia's clit, feels slick arousal coat her chin and mouth as Cordelia shudders against her, reaches down to bury fingers into Misty's hair and keep her there, cries out loudly as her orgasm splinters through her. Misty licks her lips, careful not to jostle the aftershocks as she slides up the bed and lets Cordelia sit on her stomach. Her skin is crimson and wet and Misty flushes with intense desire, bringing steady hands up and down Cordelia's waist to calm her.

Cordelia blinks herself out of her haze.

"Mmh."

"Yeah," Misty grins.

Cordelia looks down at her with a sleepy smile; uses her thumb to wipe the wetness from Misty's chin guiltily, then cup her face. She says not a word, only unstraddles Misty and slips off her skirt, joining her back on the bed, naked and giddy. She kisses Misty then, moves her entire body into it, handfuls of Misty's curls filling her hands as she coaxes their tongues together, thigh sliding between Misty's legs.

Their noses brush sweetly. Cordelia counts Misty's strained breaths as they fan over her, quickening every time she cants into her. She wants so much to put her mouth between Misty's legs but can't quite tear her eyes away from Misty's face, tilting blindly in search of her lips. She panders to her, smiling warmly as Misty curls arms around her neck to hold her closer and nuzzle further into her comforting scent.

She can feel Misty's heaving ribcage against her own, slickened with sweat where they touch.

She places careful fingers on Misty's jaw to bring her to view, whispering a quiet _you drive me crazy_ that Misty accepts proudly, splitting into another smile as they kiss over and over.

Cordelia touches her with expert precision, gifting her a quick, jagged orgasm which leaves Misty drunk and surprised and desparate for another; one Cordelia provides with a mouth to her thigh and two fingers inside her, combing through that rough, sensitive spot with strong, deliberate strokes and a devoted tongue to her clit.

Misty comes easily for a second time, tugging Cordelia away by her hair and reaching for her wet fingers to suck into her mouth. She hums, satisfied, ankles criss-crossing at Cordelia's lower back as she laps at Cordelia's hand, then nestles against her cheek, breathless.

"Reckon we jus' skip tonight and stay right here? I ain't sharin' you with nobody else," Misty growls, throwing the covers over them when Cordelia shivers against her.

"You're insatiable."

"You make me insatiable," Misty's eyes glint as she waggles her eyebrows suggestively, wrapping fingers around Cordelia's wrists to shift her closer, "can ya blame me?"

Cordelia thinks Misty's going to tell her how beautiful she is, how hot her body is, how good she fucks, and the memories of Hank doing the same sends a bitter stab through her chest.

But Misty only gathers her up and kisses her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and tells her, "Delia - when I got you in my arms, like this, ain't nothin' else I want. Now or ever. If I ain't the luckiest son of a bitch in the world," she laughs, "Thank you for lovin' me. I know sometimes it ain't easy - you make me feel safe, like I belong, I love you more than anythin' and I swear I'm gon' spend the rest of my life remindin' you."

Cordelia kisses her then, catches her rambling words between her lips and melts into the body beneath her. She wants to say _I've never loved anyone the way I love you_ but Misty knows that, Cordelia's sure of it; knows by the countless, ghostly nights Cordelia spends by her side, by the healing magic that bleeds through her and into Misty on her darkest days, by the flowers Cordelia brings her in times of happiness and sorrow and just because, blossoming beneath her touch right in front of Misty's eyes.

The rain slows to a soft patter, shrouding the room in hot, metallic afternoon darkness.

They linger in bed, watching silhouettes of leaves and branches dance across the bedroom wall. Misty listens to Cordelia's breath steady into sleep and she runs patterns across her bare back, vowing to give her half an hour before coaxing her to the bathroom for a quick shower and to get ready.

It's after seven when Cordelia emerges from the closet, wearing a black cocktail dress that clinches at her waist and falls loose to just below her knees. Misty lets her eyes linger on the delicate lace at Cordelia's chest, the intricate patterns that hug around Cordelia's chest and the collar of her neck. Her hair falls in honey waves and Misty steps up to her excitedly. Cordelia's black kitten heels boost her an inch to leave her level with Misty and they both relish in it, meeting in a happy kiss.

"Hi."

"Hi," Cordelia blushes. She traces the spaghetti strap of Misty's black jumpsuit - there's a dark, exotic flower intricately embroidered at the side of her waist and Cordelia rests her hand there, swaying in time with Misty's willowy body. She touches the corner of Misty's jaw, pays attention to the black feather earring dangling at her neck. Her hair is tied in a messy, low-lying bun and Cordelia can't help the press of her mouth to Misty's bare shoulder. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Misty's eyes soften into wet, blue pools. It's the same look Misty had given her the moment they reunited - apologetic and yearning - and Cordelia wraps arms around her in a tight hug, palm cupped to the back of her head, the other pressed between her shoulderblades protectively.  She closes her eyes and rocks them gently. Long minutes stretch out before them. Cordelia melts into Misty's hothouse smell, a combination of patchouli and petrichor and clean soap that never fails to leave Cordelia sleepy and emotional.

Reluctantly, Misty is the first to pull away with a kiss to the corner of Cordelia's mouth and a big watery smile. 

"We'll miss our dinner reservations."

Cordelia sniffles, inhaling deeply one last time.

They opt for a cab instead of transmutation, because Misty likes the way Cordelia purses her lips shyly and tucks hair behind her ear each time a door is opened for her and each time Misty teases her and gestures for her to _go ahead darlin'_.

This continues into the restaurant, when Misty pulls out her chair at the table for two nestled in the intimate, candle-lit corner of Misty's favourite restaurant. Misty looks right at home, chatting casually with the burly waiter about the new additions to the menu, complementing the wine selection, gossiping about the change of owner and of course, finally, about Cordelia, introducing her to the elderly man who Cordelia thinks might be an old family friend, with his easy smile and generous handshake.

"How come we ain't seen you 'round here?"

Cordelia laughs. "The Academy's thriving - we've had a lot of new intake and sometimes it's easy to forget there's life to be lived outside of the premises," she looks over at Misty, "but Misty reminds me every day."

At the mention of Misty's name, Oscar's face lights up and inflates Cordelia with a specific, proud kind of happiness. She glances between them, a pang in her chest at the thought that in another world, in an ideal world where nothing and nobody could hurt or leave Misty lonely, Oscar would have been the perfect father figure for her, and maybe there's still time for that.

Oscar places a tender hand on Misty's shoulder and gives her a squeeze, "Ain't that the truth. It's good to finally put a face to a name," he winks, "We'll be takin' good care of both of y'all tonight. We had a fresh batch delivered this mornin'. Wine's on the house."

The sea food platter comes with a bottle of white that Cordelia pours for them while Misty stares indulgently at her instead of at the spread on the table. It makes her feel oddly smug, the fact that for once, Misty's attention isn't on food - not that Misty's ever given her reason to believe she comes second place to anything.

Misty makes sure to remind her throughout the meal, nudging her ankle beneath the table and dancing gentle fingertips over her knuckles between courses. She lives for this - watching Cordelia be a woman, on a date, in love, happy, instead of a concerned Supreme with the weight of the world on her shoulders or a jaded daughter with too many years of self-loathing behind her. Misty knows what that feels like, thinks it's the primary thing that bonds them; the trauma and heartbreak and longing for light.

Nowadays, when she looks at Cordelia she sees nothing _but_ light, cautiously pleased that she may have had some part to play in that, however small.

They split dessert and make quick work of paying the bill.

Misty's practically bouncing on the spot by the time they reach the venue. She can already hear the heavy, crawling bass resonate through the walls of the club as they make their way through the doors and into the smoke, Cordelia's body pressed close behind her so they can weave through to find a spot at the bar.

She checks Cordelia for any signs of discomfort, only to find wide, excited brown eyes and flushed cheeks, fingers tightening around her own. Cordelia flanks the bartender easily and Misty grins the entire time she watches Cordelia order them two whiskeys, then nurse one in her hands and clink it with Misty's own. She thinks she should find it sexy, how quietly confident Cordelia is, leaning against her and looking out onto the blue lights of the stage, but Misty fills with endearment instead and links an arm around Cordelia's waist to pull her closer.

They watch the throng of bodies, flooding the spaces between the tables, thrumming with energy as the snares kick up and the harmonica blasts through the microphone.

It sends heat down Misty's spine and she shivers.

She tugs Cordelia closer. From her peripheral vision, she watches Cordelia's body move to the syncopated beat and she bites her lip. Cordelia moves with moderation but there's an easy rhythm just under her skin dying to get out and Misty recognises it, knows its unrestrained form between the sheets, when Cordelia's beneath her or on top, graceful and coordinated in the most beautiful way.

She downs her whiskey and latches onto Cordelia's wrist to pull her into the crowd, grateful for the privacy amongst the hundreds of other uncaring bodies. There's already a light sheen of sweat at Cordelia's temples. Misty cups her cheek and sidles up to her. The song that starts up is a tribute to BB Coleman Misty knows well from the riff of the electric guitar. It's slower than the rest, a swaying kind of beat that simmers the club into a steady sway.

Misty watches Cordelia finish her drink.

"Dance with me."

Cordelia drops her glass onto the closest table and lets the person behind her push her into Misty and her sturdy body. She sighs. Her dress sticks with sweat at her lower back, where Misty's hands rest. She smooths curls away from Misty's face and pecks her softly on the cheek. With her eyes closed, she can focus on the woozy drone of the guitar and the lilt of Misty's hips guiding her own. For the first time in forever, she feels at ease in her own skin.

They dance in a circle. Cordelia expects an unkind look over Misty's shoulder, a bitter word from a fellow local, but they don't come. Only the occasional bump as couples dance beside them or polite  _s'cuse mes_ when people jostle past. 

And Misty smiles at her the entire time, so close to her that it's the only thing Cordelia sees - the crinkle of her protective eyes and the upward curve of her nude mouth. But they don't kiss until after midnight, after four more cocktails when Misty's lead them past the bathrooms and through the back door to the parking lot, in a heady haze of alcohol and happiness and unadulterated love. She's pinned to the wall by Misty's gentle hands just beneath her ribs and Misty's shaking her head at her and shielding her from the February breeze.

"Is this alright?" she whispers, giving Cordelia only a second to nod before their lips meet, tentatively at first and then more firm when Cordelia opens her mouth. Misty doesn't linger long, breathless as she pulls apart and smooths down Cordelia's hair lovingly.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"For today."

Misty gives her a loose smile, "I'm glad y'liked it. I had a pretty dang good time. Reckon we should do this more often?"

"Yes," Cordelia nods. _All the time_ , she thinks, promising herself that despite the busyness of the upcoming school semester, she's going to make more time for days like this, mid-week or not, because she may be the Supreme, but she's not immune to indulgence. And it's worth it, if only for the blissful smiles Misty gives her.

"Take me home?"

"Yes," Cordelia says again, laughing this time. It's her turn to transmutate them back.

 


End file.
